


Never Again (As Long As I Draw Breath)

by behindtintedglass



Series: yet you comfort me [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/behindtintedglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas asks Gimli for a promise he can never hope to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again (As Long As I Draw Breath)

Legolas was quiet as he retrieved his arrows from the corpses of the orcs they had felled, scattered around Helm’s Deep.  Gimli’s lips tightened as he noted that the elf was rigidly not looking at the bodies of his lifeless kin.  Despite the lull in battle, Gimli knew that they couldn’t let their guard down just yet, and so Legolas was, for the moment, unwilling to let the shock and the grief overtake him.  Later, there will be time for a proper funeral for the Firstborn, together with the fallen sons of Rohan and Gondor — immortal Elves and mortal Men, brothers in the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar, side by side in death.

He watched from a respectful distance until Legolas had finished his collection. He knew that the elf would retreat into a corner of the parapet he had claimed as his own to clean his weapons… and to bear this heaviness alone.  

It pierced Gimli’s heart to watch his friend suffer silently like this.

He followed Legolas up the steps and onto the balcony where the elf laid his bow.  Legolas’ arms were gripping the stone wall tightly, his head bowed, his golden tresses shielding his grief from view.  After a moment’s hesitation, Gimli approached him warily, ready to retreat in case he was not welcome.  

He stopped a few feet beside the elf.  Legolas had stiffened at his presence, but otherwise made no other movement that indicated his displeasure.  For a long moment, the dwarf kept his silence in deference to elf’s solitary mourning.  He looked over the balcony to where the soldiers — Men and Elves alike — were collecting their dead.

“I’m sorry,” said Gimli quietly, “I have failed you.”

At this, Legolas finally stared at him, but Gimli cannot bear to look at his friend at his admission.  “I tried my best to protect your kin by drawing the orcs away to the caves.”  

Gimli closed his eyes as he remembered shouting, _‘To me, you foul beasts of Mordor!  To me!’_  when he saw that the Elven delegation was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the sheer number of Saruman’s forces.  The orcs had responded with a laughing cry then, mocking his audacity, and had swarmed over to him, and he had then lost sight of all the elves, including his friend.  In the heat of the battle, he couldn’t anymore see who survived… and who didn’t.

Gimli hung his head in shame.  “I should’ve seen that not all the orcs fell for my attempted diversion.”

Long, slender fingers brushed the bandage wrapped around his head, and the dwarf gave a start as he hadn’t realised that Legolas had moved closer.  The elf knelt in front of Gimli, and he was suddenly very much aware of how their faces were now level with each other. His caress was gentle, barely a butterfly’s touch, yet Gimli felt it down to his bones, the strange intimacy of it unravelling him.  “Master Elf?” Gimli wondered hesitantly.  

“Do you mean to say, my friend,” Legolas whispered as his gaze darted over to where the blood had clotted on Gimli’s forehead, “This was deliberate?”

“Aye,” said Gimli, his voice pitched low and soft, “And it was worth it.”

The elf’s other hand came to grip Gimli’s shoulder tightly.  “Say not so, Gimli, son of Gloin,” cried Legolas, and the dwarf was taken back both at the sudden use of his name, and at the elf’s pained sound of distress.  “What could be worth risking your life for?”

Gone was the elf’s attempt at feigned yet necessary apathy.  Gimli stared in wonder as he saw Legolas’ eyes up close for the first time, shining with sorrow and passion and something else he couldn’t name, and he wondered how his people had ever thought the Firstborn as detached creatures devoid of feeling.  

 _Moonstones_ , the dwarf suddenly thought, _his eyes are like moonstones._

And at that moment, Gimli knew that all the jewels of Arda would pale in comparison to this.

Before Gimli was even aware of what he was doing, he had reached up and tenderly brushed the elf’s hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear.  Legolas shivered at the contact, and it snapped Gimli back to consciousness.  He began to move away, suddenly afraid he had somehow offended the elf.  Yet Legolas kept Gimli’s hand where it was as the elf leaned into his touch, closing his eyes as if to savour it.

“I lost my kin in Khazad-dûm,” Gimli murmured as he marvelled at the skin beneath his fingers, soft as satin and smooth as porcelain.  “It would be worth it to save you from the grief of having to experience the same.”  He ran a rough, work-callused thumb over the elf’s milky cheekbone, and Gimli’s chest clenched at the stark contrast.  “I made a promise to you, my friend, under the great elm you so loved, and I intend to keep it.”

Gimli took a deep breath and vowed it all over again, as heartfelt as he did the first time: “As long as I draw breath, I will not allow grief to take you.”

At this, Legolas’ eyes fluttered open, and he regarded the dwarf beneath half-closed lids.  “Gimli…” the elf breathed.

And Gimli’s own breath caught in his throat as Legolas leaned forward and touched his forehead to the dwarf’s, capturing his gaze and refusing to let it go.

“Gimli,” Legolas repeated, more firmly, more despairingly, “Nothing — not even the death of my kin today, all of whom I mourn deeply — nothing has grieved me as greatly as the thought that I had lost you.”

The dwarf’s eyes widened as Legolas cupped his face in both hands.  “When I lost sight of you at the battle by the gates, and I couldn’t anymore hear the roar of your voice or the sound of your axe, I—”

Legolas broke off, and Gimli reached up to grasp his wrists to both comfort and steady him.  “Legolas?”

The dwarf staggered backward as he suddenly found himself with an armful of elf as Legolas pitched forward to cling at him.  “I would’ve shot down every orc in my way just to get back to you, elvellon,” Legolas declared fiercely.  He buried his face at the crook of Gimli’s neck as his shoulders shook with repressed emotion. “If you want to keep your promise of protecting me from grief, Master Dwarf, then I pray that you only do one thing.“

Legolas tightened his hold.  “Stay alive.  Please.  Whatever the outcome of this war, swear to me that you will never again value your life so little that you would readily give it up.  You have become dear to me, Gimli, and I cannot… I _will_ not—”

Gimli’s arms wrapped around him then, and the elf choked back a sob.  “I will not survive your death.”

“Legolas…” Gimli was at a loss at this revelation.  The words were not proclaimed lightly, for he knew that for the Firstborn to die meant one of only two causes: a swift death caused by a wound inflicted in battle, or a steady decline brought upon by the loss of a loved one.  For his death to wound the elf as deeply as he had declared meant that… he mattered.  

Gimli was not yet ready to face what that meant — not here, not now, in a war which outcome was naught to all, where the only hope everyone had lay many miles away in the hands of a brave hobbit and his stouthearted friend.

Yet Gimli knew that he had to make at least one thing clear to the elf who had become dear to him too… more than he would ever allow himself to admit.

Gently so as to not startle Legolas, Gimli unwound himself from the elf’s tight grasp.  “Legolas,” he murmured, “Forgive me, my friend… but I cannot promise that I will never give up my life to save yours, for that would be a blatant lie.  However,” and he silenced his friend’s protest with a finger to the elf’s lips, “I can promise you this, instead.”

He slid his hands down the length of the elf’s arms to grasp Legolas’ fingers in his.  “As long as I draw breath, I will not be separated from you ever again.  Where you go, I go.  From now on, whatever battle we face… we shall do so together, or not at all.”

And for the first time that night, Gimli realised how much of the elf has faded until that moment when he finally smiled… and the light of the Firstborn was rekindled in Legolas once again.

“Together,” Legolas vowed, “or not at all.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Never Again (As Long As I Draw Breath) [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607751) by [the_dragongirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dragongirl/pseuds/the_dragongirl)




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